


Lure of the Forbidden

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love, PWP without Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: "I wasn't always an old woman," Wynne chuckled. "In my younger days I was bold and reckless." Her eyes wandered into the past.No, perhaps she wouldn't share the details.**I hope you enjoy this little snippet!
Relationships: Greagoir/Wynne (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Lure of the Forbidden

It was wrong. She  _ knew  _ it was wrong. Of all the different partners she could and did have, it was this one that was forbidden. Maybe that’s why they were here, in the storage room after Owain had packed his things away and carefully locked up.

Lucky for her, she’d just started as his assistant and had a key.

“We shouldn’t,” his hot voice panted in her ear, but he was just as frantically undoing buttons and buckles as she was. His breastplate clattered when it hit the stone, but her spells were woven as carefully as she’d been taught. No one would hear.

How many kisses had they shared, snuck between the hallways and the delightfully private room she’d had since her Harrowing? How many looks as searing as his hands were now that her robe fell to her hips and he had the freedom to explore?

“I don’t want to stop. No one will know.”

He pulled back to meet her eyes, his pupils so wide it was all she could see by the light of her wisp. “Are you sure, Wynne?”

She chuckled. Instead of answering with words, she leaned forward to kiss him, delighting in the roughness of his close-cropped beard. In that and that alone, he was more like her fellow mages. It had become a tradition for  _ them  _ to keep their hair trimmed or shaved - or removed other ways.

His shirt vanished more quietly than his breastplate, and he groaned at the flickers of sensation she called from the Fade.

“You like it,” she teased, emboldened by their shared desire. “You like all of it.”

Rather than answering, he buried his hands in her hair. The red was holding out against the white streaks that had already started claiming her mane, a testament to the spirits she called on to heal. She didn’t need more of an answer, not with it pressed hard and throbbing against her hip.

They didn’t have time for an intricate dance of teasing and exploring - not  _ this  _ time, she promised herself. There would be another time. They both knew that. This time held everything they’d kept pent until this moment. She didn’t need more as she wrapped her legs around his hips and he thrust carefully, so carefully.

“Andraste forgive us! Wynne, you are everything…”

Her own moans and heavy breaths joined his as she pulled him closer, shifting just enough against the cabinet to angle things correctly. What did Andraste have to forgive? They were adults, Templars were a creation of the Chantry, and no one would know.

Then it was over.

Any fleeting thought that it was a momentary lure, the desire for the forbidden, vanished as she looked up at his face, softer than he’d ever let it be in public. He held her just as closely as he had the moment before. “If anything were to happen to you, I’d…”

“Shhh, Greagoir,” she whispered. “Nothing will happen. I’m sure of it. We’ll both be careful and everything will be fine.” 

Everything  _ would  _ be fine. They were not the first, nor the last, in Kinloch. She was not the first to be drawn to the lure of the forbidden - nor he. Yet there was a reason they had resisted until she’d pulled him into the storeroom. He was not merely a Templar, but Knight-Lieutenant. She was no simple mage, but the most promising spirit healer in two generations. What might be overlooked in others might not be overlooked in them.

Of course, that was part of the allure.

One last kiss, a quick spell to tidy up and remove the scent of sex, and she shook her head as he tried to say something. He left the storeroom first, still buckling his breastplate. He gave one last look back, as hot and soft as the ones before, and she knew they’d find their way here again.

What she saw in him was no different than what she felt. Rebellion was the least of the reasons why they’d found themselves here. The rest - honor, faith, and simple attraction - were what would keep them seeking the opportunity.

_ Maker watch over us both. _


End file.
